


Nothing But Trouble

by OneMoreDay



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 13:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5335058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneMoreDay/pseuds/OneMoreDay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of one-shots and drabbles involving BioHawk (is that the ship name?). Either way, a useful place to share some stuff floating around my head because I'm absolute crap at finishing longer fics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Maid Marian, Thou Art Villain

Clint drew his arrow back, bow sprung tight.

"God, I'd like to lick you all over."

_Crash._

The marksman turned to scowl at her.

"Oh, did I say that aloud? Apologies, I shall try to keep my fantasies to myself."

Still scowling and muttering under his breath, Clint turned back to face his target. He readied his bow once more.

"I wonder if those arms are strong enough to hold me up against that tree, Robin Hood."

Another crash. The arrow had hit a window.

_That's it._

She wants to play dirty, does she?

He disengages his bow and throws all his equipment onto the floor, striding towards her with heat and intent in his eyes.

Jemma couldn't help but tease him. And she couldn't help but shiver under his gaze.

But really, men were easy.


	2. Ah, But Robin 'Tis a Crafty Fellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow up to Chapter 1.

"You just had to drop the canister, did you?" Jemma glowered.

"Hey, I'm not the one who was all 'Don't drop the canister. We might die or worse.', blahblahblah, getting me so crazy focused on not dropping said canister of mystery juice or gas or whatever the hell it was-" Clint defended.

"It was a liquid." Judging by the drenched fabric clinging uncomfortably to their skin.

"The point is, if you hadn't distracted me from doing things like a normal person, I wouldn't have tripped over your ridiculously huge backpack. What do you have in there - Noah's Ark?" 

"No," she said, dragging the 'o' while looking away.

Maybe a miniaturised database of all the DNA of all life on earth. Maybe.

Clint narrowed his eyes suspiciously before shaking his head.

"So, quarantine. Procedure?" He prompted.

"Well, the liquid seems fairly benign. No immediate reaction upon contact with clothing. Do you feel anything on your skin?" She asked.

"Apart from my favourite t-shirt being sticky? No."

"Neither do I. Okay, we remove clothing that has been in contact with the contaminant. Next, decontamination. We need to get inside the decon shower to wash off any traces."

"After you, Milady."

"Thank you, kind sir."

\--

"This - isn't what the decontamination shower was built for, Agent Barton," she gasped as he focused his attention on a particular spot under her ear.

"So? We're being creative. Finding new uses for currently existing apparatus and equipment."

"I doubt fraternizing with fellow agents was what they had in mind."

Hours later:

Jemma struggled to keep the silly, satisfied grin off her face as she waited for the test results to come back.

"Water, Sugar, citric acid, ascorbic aci-"

_"Blueberry juice?!"_

She spun in her seat with an angry finger but Clint but the archer was already gone, the only evidence of his swift exit being an open air vent with its grill swinging on its hinges.


End file.
